


Long Lost

by wendiigo



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Comedian Richie, Internal homophobia, Late thirties reddie, M/M, Pre-IT Chapter Two (2019), Risk analyst Eddie, aka a lot of cursing, hook ups, more tags to come probably, soft smut, star crossed lovers, trashy trashmouth richie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-11-01 11:41:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20814557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendiigo/pseuds/wendiigo
Summary: Richie Tozier was not an open book, he was a junior highschool girl’s diary under lock and key. As a comedian, you are meant to expose your life in exchange for humouring the masses. But Richie, on the other hand, just handed out brochures with stupid ass jokes that reflected only lies and the aspects that he wanted his fans to see. What he was on stage was not what he was at this bar, ten drinks drunk and finding himself attracted to a man who was terrified of everything for a living. Maybe Richie felt more connected to that than he was ready to admit.🎈Richie meets a man at a hotel bar from a past he cannot remember.





	1. Strangers

It had been a fucking rough week. A really, truly big pile of dog shit, on fire.

But finally, _finally_, Richie had some time to himself. His agent told him to get a good night's rest. But what Richie Tozier really needed was a drink, a hard drink that would get him drunk and familiar with a toilet bowl. Sadly, the tiny bottles in his hotel room just wouldn't cut it.

That's why he was at the actual hotel bar, a cliche set up nestled just out of sight of the reception with some jazz tunes played by the man at the Grand Piano. At 11:30 at night the bar was mostly empty, give or take the few businessmen still in their suits and ties chatting among themselves.   
Richie was alone at the bar itself, with a glass of whiskey settled among too much ice. He downed it in one shot and the taste burnt his mouth. It was going to be a long night and Richie motioned for a refill.

He'd been watching the small television on the wall with a fourth drink in his hand when he heard another voice, one asking for a beer. Without much thought to it, Richie let his attention drift and he looked to the newcomer.

The man had perched himself on the bar stool a few seats down from Richie. He was in a suit, a businessman, with a lanyard around his neck. Richie watched as he loosened the tie around his neck and how he frowned while looking down at his mobile. He went through what looked like walls of text before sighing heavily to himself and sending back a very short reply. _A clingy girlfriend? Pissed off boss? Grandmother that just learned how to text?_

It was in that moment that Richie realised he had been staring, especially when their gazes met.

His eyes were big and dark brown, almost black, and that effect gave the man a doe eyed appearance. He looked weary… and _cute_.   
Richie swallowed a lump in his throat as he looked away, back to the drink in his grips that wasn't giving the desired effect as quick as he was hoping. Then again, his chest was suddenly tight. Suddenly his brain was buzzing. But was that the whiskey, or the man two stools down?

It was a running joke in his stand up that he was a shit boyfriend. People found the adventures with his ex-girlfriends amusing. Little did they know that Stacey and Veronica were as fucking fake as any silicon valley boob job. Because Richie Tozier is a 38 year old gay man, still locked in the closet and too fucking afraid to admit it to anyone but himself.   
To think of this random stranger as cute made Richie nervous. There was a part of him that thought striking up a conversation with this guy was a bad idea. But what was so bad about it? It wasn't like he would blurt out "Hey, you wanna suck dicks?"   
No, he wasn't drunk enough for that. Or was he…

When Richie looked back at the man, he had gone back to minding his own business. He was fiddling with the beer bottle in his grip, reading the label with a tired expression.  
… A little bit of talk wouldn't hurt, right?   
Richie downed his drink for good measure and begged he didn't say something stupid.

"Long day?"  
_Good enough._

It was enough to grab his attention. However, the guy glanced around the empty bar just incase he was about to awkwardly answer a question meant for someone else. It made Richie exhale what could have been a silent scoff or laugh. "Yeah I'm talking to you."

That made the man frown softly but with no mean intentions behind it. He fiddled with the bottle between his fingers for a second, finally he nodded. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." There was a pause as he took a sip of his beer. "You?"

A bit of talk wouldn't hurt.

Richie motioned for the bartender to fill his glass again before he slipped into the next stool. Now only a single stool sat between them. "More like a long _week_."

At Richie's openness and his advance, the man arched his brows from their former frown. While he didn't pry further, there was no reason for Richie to stop there. After all, he was a comedian. Talking was his thing. He was called Trashmouth for a reason… he couldn't remember the reason but it was a thing. Richie rested his elbows on the bar.

"My apartment got water damage on Tuesday because the asshole that lives above me bought himself a _fucking water_ bed like it's still the 1980s." That seemed to peak the guys curiosity by the look on his face, Richie downed his drink. "Of course the guy didn't fucking make it properly and I woke up in the middle of the night with water dripping on my fucking face from the ceiling. Turns out there isn't any proper insulation between the two apartments and so water was running down my walls like fucking blood in some horror movie--"   
As he spoke he ran his fingers down through the air. "My vintage vinyl collection was fucking ruined -- I can't replace that crap and the guy is trying to say its not his fault. Can you believe that?"

"That shit isn't even good for your posture," was the only thing the man said and Richie slammed his hands against the bar. "Exactly! Who the fuck buys a water bed?"

"Asshole neighbours, clearly."

Richie liked this guy.

The man shifted in his stool, finishing his beer before folding his arms along the bar. He focused back on Richie and as he did Richie noticed how almost delicate his facial features were, how **_good fucking looking_** he was.

Richie liked this guy a lot.

"Then what happened?"

With the invitation to keep talking, Richie took in a deep breath.  
It was a series of unfortunate events that fell from Richie's lips. Stepping in dog shit, delayed flights to New York, crying babies on said delayed flights, his laptop charger left in his water damaged Seattle apartment, poorly organised interviews and meetings --   
"And to top it all off my show was a fucking flop."

The whole time Richie ranted, the man was silent. He listened, urging Richie to bitch about everything that was weighing down on him. He hadn't spoken much past “then what?” but at the mention of the show, he finally had something else to say.

"What kind of show?"

It was at that point that Richie realised they hadn't had a proper introduction, he just got straight into complaining and that made Richie flush in embarrassment. He ordered another whiskey.   
He was onto nine now. His muscles were relaxing, his mouth more loose. He hardly noticed that the other man had only just ordered his second beer.

"Comedy--" Richie paused to take a sip. "I'm a famous comedian!" He said it proudly with a smug ass smile on his face.

He expected the man, who was looking him over, to quickly put two and two together and know who he was. But instead he thinned his lips and shook his head. "I don't know you…"

Did this guy not get out? Richie leaned back in his stool and the man mimicked. It meant Richie was looking at him properly for the first time, head to toe. He was slim, with no real muscle, with a fucking nice tailored suit to fit his frame. He wasn't just cute, he was **handsome**.   
More importantly, He didn't look like a total shut in. How did he not know Richie Tozier?

"You know Richie Tozier…?" He pointed at himself as if it wasn't obvious. The guy arched his brows and shook his head. "Never heard that name before."

"Are you fucking kidding?"  
"Nope."  
"I'm on tv -- I got my own fucking Netflix comedy special."  
"I don't own Netflix."

Who the fuck was this guy?  
Richie frowned deeply in confusion, in response he downed the rest of his whiskey and glanced to the new bartender on shift. He held up a finger for one more, pointing to the empty cup. As it was filled he turned fully on his stool to face the man, his attention focused on the lanyard around his neck.

"Yeah well, I don't know you either Mr --"

There was writing and while Richie could read perfectly with those glasses on his face, he held onto the bar to lean in and read the words.

"Edward Kass...Krassp… K--"  
"It's Kaspbrak."

They locked eyes for a moment before Richie sat back and took his drink, downing it.

"Well… Eddie," as the nickname left his tongue, it left with a smile on his lips. It felt too good to say, or maybe that was the alcohol. He noticed Eddie react, glancing away with an emotion Richie couldn't pin down, a warmth to his cheeks.   
Richie would refuse to call this man Edward.

"I will get you a ticket to my next show."  
"No thanks."  
"Why not?"   
"Cause you said your show was shit."

It caught Richie off guard and it should have offended him more. But instead he weirdly liked it.   
Normally it hurt when hecklers booed or reviews suggested his comedy special wasn't as funny as the media made it out to be. But not with this guy. When he said Richie's comedy was shit he felt no weight behind those words that was meant to offend or harm.   
Now Richie was seeing a personality under that sexy tailored suit.

"I didn't say it was shit--"  
"You said it _flopped_ \- that's just another word for shit."  
"Hey -- fuck you." Richie pointed at Eddie and in response, Eddie laughed. It was a soft, light laugh that tugged on Richie’s heart. It clearly caught them both off guard as Eddie cleared his throat quickly after.

"I am a risk analyst -- I can analyse that your show will give me a brain tumour. 99 percent chance."  
"99 fuckin' percent!?"

Eddie nodded, taking another long sip of his now lukewarm beer to hide the slight smile. Richie didn't know why his heart was beating hard in his chest, but he liked it. He was scared shitless of it, but fucking liked it.   
It might have been a risk, but Richie took the chance. He scooted into that one last stool and now they sat side by side, arms almost touching. Eddie glanced at him again, those doe eyes watching him. He made no comment and when the buzz settled Richie spoke up again.

"How did you calculate 99 fuckin'percent?"

Surprisingly, Eddie had math behind this stupid banter. It was actually fucking rediculous and probably made up, but Richie fucking hated math and you could have told him 5+6=28 and he would believe you.

It opened up the conversation to _why_ _risk_ analysis? and _why_ _are_ _you_ _here_?  
In short, Eddie was there for a conference, discussing new ways to analyse risks. And why risk analysis? In short:  
“I'm scared shitless of a lot of things, math makes it easy to calculate survival."   
Richie stared at him for a moment, wondering how freely Eddie normally admitted to that - especially to a stranger. It seemed to show on Eddie's face that maybe it was not too common.

"Sounds like a shit life-- being scared all the fucking time." Richie pointed out while making a face at the glass of water the bat tender had given him.   
"Shut up--" Eddie shot back when finishing his third, and last beer. "Aren't you scared of anything?"

The short answer was yes. Richie was scared of a lot. But nothing he would admit to so readily.

Richie Tozier was not an open book, he was a junior highschool girl’s diary under lock and key. As a comedian, you are meant to expose your life in exchange for humouring the masses. But Richie, on the other hand, just handed out brochures with stupid ass jokes that reflected only lies and the aspects that he wanted his fans to see. What he was on stage was not what he was at this bar, ten drinks drunk and finding himself attracted to a man who was terrified of everything for a living. Maybe Richie felt more connected to that than he was ready to admit.

He was silent before he finally sipped at the water. "I'm scared of werewolves."

  
🎈

They spoke until the bartender ushered them into the lobby at one am, closing the glass doors to the bar behind them.   
The warm bar stools that they had frequented for almost two hours were now no longer an option. The playful banter that sparked between them seemed to grow cold, and silent.   
Now they were faced with the reality that they had to go back to their separate hotel rooms. This encounter was just a fleeting moment about to come to a close.

But Richie didn't want it to end. A little voice in his head said that maybe it would be for the best that it did. It was scared. But staring at Eddie made his heart race for reasons other than fear. When Eddie looked back at him, Richie thought _fuck_ _it_.

There was a lump in his throat, but the words that so desperately wanted to come out forced their way up past the fear that had him hesitating.  
"I've still got a full bar fridge, if you're interested."

Eddie's eyebrows raised in surprise and Richie felt his breath catch in his throat with that lump. What if he said no? What if--  
"A few more couldn't hurt…"

The two exchanged glances. Now that they were standing, Richie noted that Eddie had to tilt his head slightly to look at him. Then Eddie offered him a slight smile, something almost shy, in their exchange and it made Richie feel hotter than it should have.

Eddie's voice brought him back to reality as he started to head towards the elevators. "You coming, funny guy?"  
Richie made a face in response, flipping him off, earning another genuine chuckle in response, before joining Eddie at the elevators with a slight sway to his step. Eddie hit the button and one of the three opened automatically, letting the two slip inside.

Richie was on the eighth floor.  
So, in classic Richie fashion, he began to press the button to every level. Behind him he heard Eddie go "what the fuck are you doing?" to which he only smiled a shitful smile before standing back beside Eddie while the doors closed.  
"What are you? 13?" Eddie questioned at the first floor, when the doors opened and they stared out into the empty hallway.  
"I'm actually 38, but thank you for the compliment. I take my skin care routine seriously," they exchanged glances and smiled again.

The doors opened at the second level and Eddie suppressed a sigh.   
At the fourth floor, Eddie let out a loud _fuuuck_ and Richie was sent into loud laughter.   
Even though Eddie was clearly frustrated, there was no denying the smile on his lips as their banter continued with each empty hallway that the elevator doors opened onto.

Finally, the elevator sounded off the eighth floor with a _ding_ and the doors opened up to another empty hallway. They moved into the quiet halls and Richie lead them both to one of the last rooms on the right, pausing only to pull the keycard from his back pocket.

Richie maneuvered around the dark room to reach the bedside table and turned on the reading lamp.   
_Mood_ _lighting_.   
Well, it would have been more romantic but… his room was a mess.

Richie had only really been in the room for about 3 hours between his flopped show and his sudden need for a hard drink. The suitcase was still open on the queen sized bed with clothes that seemed to be crawling our, like creatures in desperate need for air. There were flannelette shirts, Luau shirts, a wind breaker jacket, jeans, and t-shirts with really stupid shit on them that, for a 38 year old, made him look so lame.   
(And he kinda was)  
At the small table sat his open laptop, dead from forgetting his charger. There were papers scrawled with jokes scattered across the surface where Richie had, in a panic, been trying to bullshit the last ten minutes of his act without access to his documents.

"You're a pig," Eddie spoke up as he stood in the middle of the small room.   
Richie moved to the bed and in one movement just shoved the suitcase off the bed and onto the floor. It thudded on the ground, out of site where the rest of the contents had most likely just fallen out everywhere. He looked back at Eddie, brows arched as if to ask _satisfied_?  
Eddie simply shook his head as he started to undo his tie.

Richie had somewhat sobered after three glasses of ice water (but not really.) While Eddie was still sober enough to carefully fold his tie and put it in his suit pocket. The top few buttons of his shirt were then undone and now Richie could see the edge of a collar bone. It left Richie seriously contemplating the last time he kissed a guy.

When he realised that Eddie was watching, he quickly felt the heat in his cheeks. He was surprised there wasn't drool on his chin and he cleared his throat.  
"Make yourself comfortable," Richie motioned to the room. "_Mi_ _casa_ _su_ _casa_, _amigo_," he spoke, in one of those many voices he had, as he moved to the bar fridge in the hallway and took the two beers that cost more than his water damaged apartment.

He turned back to Eddie perched on the edge of his bed, running his hands through his nicely cut hair before shrugging off his jacket.   
Without anything but each other in that messy hotel room, it was easy to find that their attention kept falling back to the only important thing - each other.   
Richie couldn't put his finger on the feeling in his chest. But he swallowed the lump in his throat and offered Eddie one of the bottles. He took it with a thanks and smiled that shy smile. Richie believed that smile was designed by the gods to make him weak at the knees.  
It was lucky he had sat his ass down, right beside Eddie.

Thighs and shoulders pressed together, elbows knocking one another. Yet, neither bothered correcting and instead the two clinked their beers together in a _cheers_.

And now that they were there, sitting close together in Richie's trashed hotel room, Richie had no fucking idea what to do. He had extended this invite with no plan. Richie wondered whether it was his heart or his _dick_ that had made him blurt out those words in the lobby.   
"I didn't even ask you why your day was shit," he finally spoke up, taking a long sip afterwards and Eddie looked towards him.

"I over abused my inhaler this morning and it was empty by the time I checked into the fucking hotel."  
_Of_ _course_ this guy has an inhaler. As if he wouldn't. It made Richie breathe a small laugh, drinking more of his beer. Eddie frowned at his amusement.  
"What's so funny? I could die if I don't have my inhaler…"

"Then why are you alive right now?"  
"Because I drove the hour and a half back to my pharmacy and picked up a new inhaler, I don't keep my script on me and so I was late to my tal--"  
Again, Richie laughed, even more so at the frustration in Eddie's voice at having to explain himself.   
"For a risk analysist, not keeping your script on you at all times seems like a stupid risk, Eds."   
"Shut up -- it's stupid not to pack your charger with your laptop."  
"Yeah but I don't need that shit to _breathe_."  
"You clearly need it to make good content for your shit comedy."

Richie almost choked on his mouthful of beer when Eddie made another jab at his comedy. As he glanced at Eddie he couldn't help but note the way Eddie downed half his beer, so much faster than how he had messed around with the beers given to him at the bar.   
It left a smile on Richie's lips when he looked away, taking a swig of beer again.

"Shut up Kaspbrak--"  
"Make me."

_Make_ _me_?   
It was the most childish thing to say. But when Richie looked at Eddie again with his mouth open, ready to spit some banter, he paused at the expression on the others face.   
Eddie's expression was soft in the lamp light, his grip on the mostly empty beer bottle was tight, and across his cheek bones was that rose tint of a blush. And while Richie had drunk that whole night, his throat went dry when he realised Eddie Kaspbrak was _flirting_. Not only flirting but _daring_ him to do something that Richie had wanted to do for the past two hours.

They stared at each other for a moment in silence, breath caught in throats before Eddie shifted. His thigh pressed against Richie's.   
"You heard me, Richie…" Eddie spoke again "_Make_ _me_."

Richie gulped, swallowing the lump in his throat. But every part of his being, even the parts that were terrified, told him that not doing this would be the worst decision in his life.

Richie's eyes fell towards Eddie's lips, so soft in appearance. They parted slightly, Eddie biting his lower lip.

_Fuck_ _it_\--

Richie grabbed the lanyard still around Eddie's neck and pulled him into a kiss.

It was the first time he had kissed a guy in _fucking_ _years_. Richie was scared shitless, yet he couldn't deny how warm he felt at the sensation of kissing someone he really wanted to kiss.   
Eddie leaned into it. He kissed Richie back, his hand shifting to press gently into Richie's thigh and even that simple touch left Richie feeling like he was a giddy teenager all over again.

When the first kiss parted, it opened something in Richie that he had tried to keep under lock and key for many years.   
The need to want someone, to show affection, to _love_ someone.   
Richie let go of the lanyard and pressed his hand to Eddie's neck. He pulled him close again, kissing him again and deeper this time.  
Eddie responded, opening his mouth for Richie and he squeezed his thigh harder. They melted at each other's touch, they fit together, it felt so _right_.

🎈

Richie hadn't sucked cock since he was in his early thirties. He was at some house party in Seattle when he went down on a guy he hadn't met before or saw again after that night. He had been ashamed at himself that night, and had burrowed himself deeper into the closet. 

But with Eddie naked on the bed, his slender legs on either side of Richie's head, he was going to suck him off as if he did it every second day.

By Eddie's little moans, he knew he was doing okay. There was a hand curling in his messy hair, begging him not to stop. Maybe better than okay.   
With Eddie in his mouth, there was a jitter of nerves and fear inside of him, screaming at him to stop, made his fingertips tremble. They screamed that he was exposing his biggest fear, his biggest secret to a stranger.   
But when Richie glanced up at Eddie and saw the other watching him, big eyes admiring him. He told that fear to _shut_ _the_ _fuck_ _up_.

Eddie had one of his legs hooked over Richie's shoulder with the ball of his foot digging into his back. Richie expected the other to cum right then and there until he felt Eddie tug tightly on his hair.   
"Rich--"   
The strained, soft voice above him accompanied by a pleading tone made Richie stop and pull his lips away. The two stared at each other for a moment, faces flushed and both trying to steady themselves.   
Then Eddie, after collecting his breath in hesitation, spoke up.  
"Fuck me…"

Richie's blush darkened fifty fucking shades as he processed the others plea. He could see by the redness in Eddie's own cheeks that this wasn't a usual thing for him either.   
Yes, Richie had sucked cock before, he had fucked around with guys. But each time he did, there was regret, disgust, _hate_ towards himself. He was afraid that in this aftermath, those feelings would come back. But then Eddie tugged gently on his hair, fingers curling in the strands.   
This was something different, what it was was neither could properly pin down. Like the kiss, it would be a regret to say no.

"Need me to grab your inhaler?"   
The joke slipped past Richie's lips and caused Eddie to kick Richie's shoulder as a fuck you. But in the seconds following a small pause Eddie replied.  
"... Maybe."  
The two of them laughed, out of breath and Richie planted a kiss against Eddie's inner thigh before he pulled himself away. He found Eddie's inhaler in the abandoned jacket on the floor and tossed it on the bed.  
For once Richie wouldn't just have condoms and lube in his suitcase for show. And he didn't want to admit how fucking good that felt.

🎈

The aftermath of sex had been what Richie was going to call sweet and almost cute. He had never laughed so softly at someone's displeased expression to the fact their stomach was covered in cum.  
He helped Eddie off the bed and the two joked in the bathroom while washing off what remained in a quick shower. Being clean pleased Eddie's germ-phobic tendencies just as it relaxed Richie's deeply twisted homophobia towards himself. Being covered in sweat and cum from both himself and another man was not helping that despite the bliss that came with it.

Now, it seemed only natural for the two to part ways. But again, Richie wasn't ready. Instead he took Eddie's hand and lead him back into bed.

The two found themselves at 2:30 in the morning naked on Richie's bed. Each on their own respected side, a small gap between them. They watched each other in silence, Richie admiring Eddie and Eddie blushing deeper every time he recognised it. It made Richie smile a stupid smile.

But then Eddie's gentle expression fell into one of thoughts, a small frown on his face. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped, thinning his lips and looking away. Suddenly Richie was nervous.  
"What…?" He urged Eddie to speak.

Richie's heart started to beat quicker in his chest, unable to take his eyes off Eddie in that moment. When Eddie finally looked at him, there was an expression that Richie couldn't really place. Eddie seemed to hesitate for words.   
"Maybe we have met before..."

It took Richie back, it wasn't what he expected. He had been daydreaming of something horrible.   
"You said I didn't even looked familiar…" Richie pointed out while adjusting the glasses on his face.

"I know but I can't shake this feeling that I know you -- I don't know." Eddie frowned in his own confusion and Richie quietly watched him.

While it seemed strange, Richie couldn't deny how comfortable it had felt to fall into place beside Eddie. In their banter and nicknames, in their movements and contact, he found himself content. It felt weirdly natural for Richie, a man who was terrified of flirting with any man he found attractive.   
Eddie was watching him, face pressing against the feather filled pillow, waiting for Richie to get that glazed look from his eyes as this all ran through his head.

Richie could have made a joke, but he didn't. Instead his hand shifted along the sheets, fingertips curling gently against the hand Eddie sat in the gap between them.   
"I get what you mean, Eds…"   
His voice was quieter than before, their fingertips curling together. There was a moment of hesitation from Richie when he looked at the ceiling, exhaling softly and Eddie watched him with those big eyes. A few more seconds passed before Richie looked back at him, an unreadable expression on his face. Almost serious.  
"This dick is pretty unforgettable."

Richie's serious expression fell away into a smile and laughter broke as Eddie roughly shoved him and Richie rolled onto his back.   
"Fuck you Tozier!"  
"Don't be a coward and fuck me yourself."

Eddie, while his cheeks flushed red, didn't seem to hesitate in crawling onto Richie's lap. He grabbed the comedian's hands when Richie went to protest between his laughs and pinned them over Richie's head.   
Their faces came close, Eddie's breath brushing over his lips. He had a playful smile and Richie could see the small set of crows feet pinching at the corners of Eddie's eyes.

Richie felt warm, he felt warm in even the deepest, darkest corners of his being.   
He was pinned to a hotel bed, by a man he had just met. But Eddie had been right, Richie felt like he had known the other for a long, long time.   
Their naked bodies were pressed together, Eddie's thighs squeezing his hips and Richie couldn't get the stupid smile off his lips.   
That was when he exhaled, a long sigh.

"I am so happy I could die…"

The words left him without a thought in his mind, pushed into existence by the sheer bliss of that moment between them. But when he caught up to the words that had slipped out, his cheeks flushed red. The smile fell from his expression as Richie began to hesitate.  
Above him, Eddie's playful smile had fallen away as well. The comedian had been talking shit all night, and Eddie recognised just as well as Richie in that moment that this had been the first genuine thing to pass Richie's lips.   
"I…" Richie wanted to try and explain away what had been breathed with such a relieved tone. But he let his words fall away when Eddie let go of his hands and instead Eddie took Richie's glasses from his face. He took a moment to lean over, carefully put them on the bed side table.   
When he shifted back, all he was in Richie's vision was a warm blur.

Eddie leaned in, his nose brushing along Richie's.   
Richie felt his heart drumming in his ears. Eddie pressed his hands gently against Richie's cheeks and whispered softly on his lips.   
"Shut up _and_ _kiss_ _me_, _Trashmouth_."

His words echoed in Richie's head as their lips locked again in a deep kiss. Richie brought his freed hands around Eddie and embrace him, never wanting to let go.


	2. Of Course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie had that look again, like he had a head full of thoughts that were bursting at the seems to escape.   
Richie didn't like it. 
> 
> 🎈
> 
> Of course, things were too good to be true.

Richie woke up the next morning feeling better than he had in a long, long time. It wasn't that Richie was a man who was depressed per say, struggling to get out of bed every day. But waking up felt different, tilted, off balanced in the best way possible. At first, when his eyes opened and the world was a blur without his glasses, he couldn't exactly figure out _why_.

It was when he tried to move that everything quickly fell into place. He realised he couldn't move and he felt the body pressed against his.

_Oh_.

_Holy Fucking Shit._

The man at the bar. Edward Kaspbrak. Eddie.

He was asleep, his arm wrapped around Richie's torso, his face pressed against Richie's bare chest, their legs tangled. Richie quickly realised Eddie's _dick_ was pressed against his thigh. Again, _holy_ _fucking_ _shit_.

As slowly as he could, Richie blindly reached out for the glasses that were perched on the bedside table and slipped them onto his face. The messy room came into focus, the light filtered through the thin curtains to tell Richie that it was still early but not early enough.   
Eddie hardly stirred and it gave Richie the time to look at him without artificial lights. He was a mess of dark brown hair, not like the night before where it was perfectly styled. Unlike Richie with his five o'clock shadow, Eddie's jaw was smooth against his chest. His nose was so fucking cute with the way it was burried against his skin. Eddie breathed calmly in his sleep and there was something about how peaceful Eddie was that made Richie feel so fucking warm.

It was the first time he had slept with a man in a long, long time. But more importantly, it was the first time they stayed after. Normally, Richie would be scared. But instead he rested his head back against the pillow, wrapping his arm slowly around Eddie to not wake him. If he focused, he could feel Eddie's breath against his skin and Richie closed his eyes. He begged for this to last a bit longer, just a little bit longer.

It was too good to last too long and ten minutes had passed when Eddie finally started to wake up. Richie felt him shift, opening his eyes to watch Eddie slowly peel his face off Richie's chest. Where he had been asleep was a red mark on Richie's skin and Eddie's cheek was just as red.   
Propping himself up with one arm, Eddie sat up stared blankly into the corner of the room, then around. Richie watched him quietly as he tried to figure out where the fuck he was, his doe eyes squinting tiredly at the mess of a hotel room. When they finally settled on Richie, laying there naked with a hand behind his head, it all clicked into place and those signature doe eyes got a little bit wider with realisation.

"Holy fucking shit."

Richie couldn't stop himself from smiling lightly as the words left Eddie's lips in a whisper.

"Holy. Fucking. Shit..." Richie agreed.

They stared at each other for a moment in silence before Eddie broke eye contact. One of Eddie's hands pressed into Richie's stomach as he slowly untangle their legs, fingers curling against his belly button.   
"What time is it...?" Eddie spoke up as he shifted, sitting up beside Richie and pressing his hands to his tired eyes.   
Richie propped himself on his elbows, looking towards the hotel's alarm clock perched on the bedside table. The numbers blinked at him. "Almost ten am."

"What--? Shit!"  
Eddie's hands ran through his messy hair, bringing form back to it as if by magic before they landed defeated at his sides. There was a frown on his face and he breathed out a heavy sigh before cursing fuck under his breath. When he looked back at Richie his cheeks went a shade of pink. Richie had not stopped watching him. Admiring him.

"The conference started an hour ago - I am supposed to be downstairs right now."

Richie could see that Eddie was annoyed and disappointed, perhaps more in himself than in Richie. He should have told Eddie to take a shower and get going then, cut their affair short. But Richie had already gone so far, why stop now? The fear that normally consumed him had not caught up yet.

He was over tired, but energised on sex, maybe a little bit drunk still, but with more clarity than ever. And, more importantly, and unknown to him, absolutely infatuated.

"Just lie and say you had to drive that hour back to your pharmacy to pick up another inhaler."

His quick jab made Eddie quickly reach out and actually jab a couple of fingers into Richie's ribs. Richie flinched and breathed a laugh.   
The laugh seemed to stop Eddie in his tracks, his frown softened and he let out a soft sigh before flopping back down in the messy bed.

Silence fell over them again as Richie watched Eddie stare up at the ceiling. The frustrated look was gone, but a small frown still remained. He was thinking about something, like he had the night before and Richie couldn't help but feel a little nervous. He rolled onto his side to watch Eddie and the quiet dragged on for longer than Richie's loud mouth could let it.   
Richie reached out across the small distance between them, his hand pressed against Eddie's bicep, rubbing it gently to gain his attention.

Eddie tilted his head to the side to look at Richie. Richie thought of speaking again, but nothing came to mind.   
Instead, he leaned across the small gap and his lips found Eddie's again. They were still soft, like the night before. They still made Richie's heart flutter in his chest.   
Eddie pressing his hand gently against Richie's cheek and his thumb curling against his stubble. It was a gentle kiss, much like their first, but there was something more to it. There seemed to be something more to this.

They stayed in bed for another hour. They kissed, joked and laughed against one another lips. And each time Eddie seemed to drift into his mind, Richie pulled him back with another joke or kiss or stupid voice.   
Richie didn't want this to end. Quietly, he begged for more time, just a little more time.

Eddie left when he couldn't ignore the nagging thought that he was late to his conference. He took a quick shower and put on the suit from the night before, Richie put the lanyard around his neck and used it to pull him close for another kiss. The domestic-ness of it all left Richie feeling giddy.

They agreed to have a late lunch when the risk analyst was done for the day. It was followed by an exchange in numbers and when Richie put Eddie in his phone as _Eddie_ _Spaghetti_, he put Richie down as _Motherfucker_.

Then Eddie was gone.   
Richie sat back on the hotel room bed, his fingertips spreading out across the crumpled sheets while his mind recollected the night before. From the bar, to the elevator, to the bed. As the silence settled around him, Richie let out a breath he had been holding in. What the fuck was he doing?  
Without Eddie in the room the fear creeped back into his bones. Richie sat there in the realisation that he had blindly accepted what he had rejected for so, so long. He had pulled Eddie into that kiss. He had sucked the guys cock, fucked him while they trembled through a climax. But more importantly, he had refused to let go at the end. In the morning he still refused to let go. He clung to something that he had hated about himself for as long as his memory would let him remember.   
And now? Now he was meeting the guy for lunch… it was just lunch. Right? It wasn't a date… Right? Richie was the one that suggested it and he didn't even fucking know what they had agreed to.

Richie could feel his heart in his chest, drumming on his ribs.

This was **_fucking_** _**insane**_.

🎈

The cafe was only a few blocks from the hotel. One of those classic coffee shops on a corner with big windows and booths. Richie waited outside with his hands buried in his jacket pockets, fiddling with his phone that had texts from _Eddie_ _Spaghetti_ saying that he was on his way.

In the four or so hours between Richie’s small internal crisis and walking to the cafe, he attempted productivity. Richie had showered and changed into one of the patterned button ups over his goosebumps t-shirt. He then called his manager and they talked about the failure of a show the night before, it helped get the frustration off his chest. He also called his apartment complex and found our they were willing to give compensation for his asshole of a neighbour. The shit week he had been having was slowly turning around. He didn't want to give any credit to Eddie, but at the same time, he couldn't help but be thankful.

Eddie had texted him saying he would be there in five minutes, and boy did the guy not lie. Not even a second over that five minute mark and there he was. Despite a few wrinkles in the suit, he looked like a million dollars that Richie honestly felt like he couldn't afford.   
He smiled at the slightly flustered man. Clearly power walking was enough to make his asthma pissed off.

Eddie paused at the sight of Richie and the two of them stood there for a moment in silence. Richie felt like he had to do something, and that thought caused him to bury his hands deeper into his pockets.   
Richie could have reached out and touched Eddie, his arm, hand. But the streets bustled and everything was so loud. The world outside of the hotel room was much scarier to admit to than the man before him and it had Richie swallowing the lump in his throat and motioning to the door before them.

“You suggested this place just so we can stand out the front and not go in?” he joked and in response Eddie bumped his shoulder into Richie's before slipping inside.

They got a booth and sat opposite to one another. Eddie ordered an espresso while Richie opted for straight up black coffee, hoping that the buzz of caffeine would somehow overcome his own nerves. Like in most situations, Richie covered his nerves with talking. He talked about his apartment, he compared New York to Seattle while the coffees were set in front of them. He rattled on, and on and on - until he realised the responses had stopped. The conversation had become one sided as Richie focused on Eddie.

Eddie had that look again, like he had a head full of thoughts that were bursting at the seems to escape.   
Richie didn't like it.   
If they were still in his hotel bed Richie would be pulling him into another kiss. Richie didn't want anything potentially ruining what he found that little bit of ecstasy in. He had done it all morning. But now, in public, he had no choice but to hear what Eddie had been holding back.   
His lips thinned, he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, before he breathed out a heavy sigh, glancing out the window to the busy street. Richie could see him struggling to find the right words, Richie’s fingers curled against his knees beneath the table.

“I'm … shit --” he shook his head, frowning as he leaned forward and held the espresso in his hands. When Eddie made eye contact, Richie felt his stomach turn.

“There is no easy way to say this…”

Richie almost wanted to say that it didn't matter, that they could just keep enjoying their coffee and order some food. But instead he swallowed.

“Then just say it Eds.”

“I'm engaged.”

Richie knew it had all been too good to be true.

Suddenly that warm feeling he had been consumed with all day left him. What rushed in to replace it was bitter winter winds where the little voice in his head said _I_ _told_ _you_ _so_. Despite the cold, his face was flushed in embarrassment, or frustration, or something along those lines. It was almost enough to make Richie laugh. Because _of_ _course_. **_Of_** **_course_**.

“I should have told you--”

Eddie was trying to talk, but Richie was focused on his black coffee. His voice in that moment seemed so far away. Of course, he opened up to who he was, what he had always been… with a guy who was _fucking_ _engaged_.

“It's just--”

That's what Richie got for opening up after decades of being kept in the closet. He shouldn't have thought he was allowed to be vulnerable without expecting to be ripped to shreds.

“Richie…”

Richie was going to crawl back into his closet, with tail between his legs, and add another lock to the door in case anyone ever tried to open his closet ever again.

“Rich--”

Was this karma for not accepting who he was?

“Hey--”

For running away from part of his identity? Perhaps he deserved this. Yeah--

When a hand crossed the table and pressed gently against his own, Richie was forced out of his head. He looked up and saw it was Eddie, his soft fingers closing around his hand to hold it, squeezing it. He had a frown on his face and his expression told Richie that he was concerned. Richie quickly realised it must have looked like he had turned off, like a computer forcing upgrades.

Embarrassment made him pull his hand away and Eddie moved his hand back to his side of the table. Richie had to recover from this and fast. He sat up straighter in his chair, he grabbed his coffee and took a long sip while Eddie stayed focused on him. Under those eyes it was hard to develop composure, but Richie had to do it.

He sat his coffee mug back down and inhaled.

“I knew my dick was powerful, but I didn't realise it was powerful enough to try and break off weddings.”   
It was the first thing to slip out of his trashy mouth and Eddie seemed taken aback. Now Richie was in charge of this situation, his emotions. Eddie was frowning, a serious frown.  
“Richie, I'm seriously sorr--”

When he tried to speak up, Richie picked up the menu, he put the barrier between them. “I think I'll get the big breakfast.”  
“Can you stop being an asshole for ten seconds??”  
“No --” Richie motioned a waiter over with a smile.  
“Can I get the biggest breakfast plate you got? And…”

Richie looked at Eddie, he could see that soft frown still. He was looking through Richie’s facade. But Richie wasn't going to drop it now. Inside, he had no control over his emotions. So he could at least attempt to orchestrate how this ended.  
He arched his eyebrows at Eddie, waving the menu in suggestion. Almost begrudgingly, he finally answered.

“A bagel.”

When the waiter left, Eddie quickly went to speak again but Richie cut him off.   
“It's fine, Eddie. We’re cool. I'm not gonna tell anyone.” _Never_.  
“As long as you don't.” Richie quickly added.   
“I kinda don't want to end up on some snapchat gossip tabloid.”  
That almost earned an eye roll from Eddie.

Richie kept this sweaty hands on his lap, fingers curling into his jeans. But he put on a small smile, he would get through this. Eddie still had that small, soft frown. His gaze so unsure and weary.

“Are you sure…?”

Richie was sure that he was anything but okay. Yet what difference would it make to tell Eddie the truth? It would not change the fact that Eddie was engaged. All Richie could do to make sure he didn't feel more embarrassed and ashamed than he already did was to nod, and shrug it off.

“No biggie, Eds.”

Richie smiled, he tried his fucking best. “Let’s just have lunch and I'll try to stay awake while you tell me ‘bout your conference.”   
Eddie shifted in his seat, as if trying to become comfortable with Richie's casually brushing under the rug the fact he was engaged to call out his boring job. Richie thought maybe Eddie would keep trying to talk about it. But perhaps he saw the desperation in Richie's eyes. Because Eddie sighed, his frown loosening on his face while he picked up his coffee.   
“It's not boring…”

At least Richie knew the answer to his question from earlier. This was no date.

🎈

Richie paid for lunch. He joked, calling himself a _sugar_ _daddy_. But Eddie didn't laugh.

To avoid the awkward walk back those few blocks to the hotel, Richie said he had somewhere to be.   
Their goodbye was a small exchange and Richie waving before his hands were buried back into his jacket pockets and he walked the opposite way to the hotel. He wanted to look back at Eddie but he forced himself not to. It would be better just to not look back.

As he wandered the streets of the city he pulled his phone from his pocket, he then went to his recently added contacts. _Eddie_ _Spaghetti_ was at the top of the list.   
Richie could just delete it.   
He could erase it and erase the last, not even 24 hours from his life. His thumb hovered over the little bin icon for way too long before Richie sighed heavily and simple put his phone back in his jacket.

Maybe later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a bit smaller than the last one but I hope that's okay gfghvhjgytd
> 
> I am hoping to keep bringing you guys more asap 💛

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I haven't written properly in over a year so first off I'm sorry this is a mess.
> 
> But I have a l o t of emotions about Richie and Eddie and sitting on twitter everyday just isn't going to cut it. pls expect more as I keep dealing with these feelings.


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